


we go crashing down (we come back every time)

by rien (uwu)



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwu/pseuds/rien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You press your clammy hands against his warm skin, and want to light yourself on fire with how alive you feel. You laugh, only slightly hysterical, into his mouth at the thought that you’ll never feel more alive than after you’ve killed a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we go crashing down (we come back every time)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Molly whose ships and everything is always so on point.

The body is burned and gone, there’s nothing more you can do but leave. But. You look at the last plumes of smoke fade out into the horizon, you turn your head to the side and see Wes. See the stability and absoluteness a direct contrast to the way you can feel your hands shake, and you want that, want the solidness to ground you. Want to bury yourself in someone whose name you couldn’t ever forget. God, you _want_.

He disappears, and it feels like the ground crumbles under you. You go to his apartment anyway. You don’t know who’s more surprised that you’re there when he opens the door, him or you. You kiss him, and the most surprising thing of this whole night is that he kisses you back.

It’s not gentle or sweet, it’s bites and rough, nothing like how you might’ve expected, you don’t know how you feel about that. He presses you up against the door, you can taste the strength on the tip of his tongue, and you want to bury yourself in it. You press your clammy hands against his warm skin, and want to light yourself on fire with how alive you feel. You laugh, only slightly hysterical, into his mouth at the thought that you’ll never feel more alive than after you’ve killed a man.

It’s a hurried thing, a rush of hands and clothes, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You breathe open mouthed into the stale air of Wes’ cheap apartment, you see the scratch marks on the wall and want to make some of your own. You grab at Wes, push him back to his bed, because if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s sex.

He stumbles onto the bed, and that lack of coordination feels like coming home, you’re in charge and he’s looking up at you like you have all the answers. You like him looking up at you, so you straddle him, and give him all you got. You had forgotten about how turned on you were but when you feel his dick pressing up against yours it comes back to you, and you can’t help but grind down. The gasp he lets out, like he can’t help it, sends a dirty thrill up your spine and you grin through it.

You both get your clothes off in a mad rush that feels more uncoordinated than you’ve been since your first fumble. You stop for a second to appreciate Wes, the lithe body, and the strength you know he holds, but you only stop for a second. He stares at you, and you want to be smug and appreciative, but all you can think about is _where’s the lube_.

Wes smiles up at him, and turns around enough to knock you off kilter, digging around under his mattress and coming back up with lube. You smile down at him and grab at the lube, slipping back into that familiar, comfortable skin. You lean in to kiss him as you spread his legs, don’t know if he’s ever done this before but you’re too riled up to go slow, and your kisses bite as much as your grip bruises.

The prep feels perfunctory, when usually you can make it as good as the actual fuck, so you slow down, try to calm down and make this enjoyable. Circles your fingers inside of Wes, trying to find that awesome little spot, smirking into the kiss at the little jolt Wes gives when you find it. He pulls back from the kiss and leans back into a moan, and you bite your lip as you press in another finger with only minimal resistance.

You don’t have a condom, and pulling out your fingers and pushing in your dick without one is the second dumbest thing you’ve done today. You're going to remember the sound Wes makes for the rest of your life. You’re too close, but the adrenaline, and the crash, combined with Wes’ little punched out sounds isn’t making this easy on you. You slow down, try to calm down, make this last (might be the only chance you get) but he doesn’t let you, doesn’t let you stop just pulls and pushes any way he wishes.

He pushes you on your back, and you fall back and let him lead. You would’ve thought that all you’d need right now is control, to be in charge, but letting someone else lead feels so good it hurts. You don’t let him do everything, grab at his hips and fuck up into him, reveling in the sounds he makes as a result. It’s over too fast, but you’re thankful, because you’re so tired you can finally sleep.

You flop over to the side, breathing heavily and so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, sleep digs its claws into you and you sink into it like a welcome friend, but not before looking at Wes one last time. He’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep, you think you’d be okay with him being the last thing you see if you get caught. You think you’d be more than okay with that.

 


End file.
